The Peculiarities of Raggett
'Oh, Bruce,' said Edith, as she looked up from a Sale Catalogue, 'I _do_
wish you would be an angel and let me have a little cash to go to Naylor
and Rope's. There are some marvellous bargains--spring novelties--there,
and Archie absolutely _needs_ one or two things.'
Bruce frowned and sat down to breakfast, rather heavily.
'I object,' he said as he took his coffee, 'on principle--purely on
principle--to spring sales. Women buy a lot of things they don't want,
and ruin their husbands under the ridiculous impression they're buying
bargains.'
'I won't ruin you, dear. I want to get Archie a coat--and a hat. I only
want'--she watched his expression--' a sovereign--or two.' She smiled
brightly, and passed him the toast.
His manner softened.
'Well, dear, you know I'm not a rich man, don't you?'
'Yes, dear.'
'But I should much prefer that you should get Archie's things at a
first-rate place like Wears and Swells, where we have an account, and
send me the bill. Will you do that?'
'Of course I will, if you like; but it'll cost more.'
She had often marvelled at a comparative lavishness about cheques that
Bruce combined with a curious loathing to parting from any coin,
however small.
'Then that's settled. And now I want to speak to you about Raggett.'
He paused, and then said seriously, 'I've absolutely decided and very
nearly made up my mind to have Raggett to dinner tonight at the Savoy.'
'The Savoy?'
'Yes, yes; no doubt this little flat is very comfortable'--he looked
round the room with marked disdain--'and cook, thanks to you, isn't half
_bad_ ... but one can't give _dinners_ here! And after all I've said to
Raggett--oh, one thing and another--I fancy I've given him the
impression of a rather luxurious home. It won't matter if he calls here
in the afternoon some day, but for a man like that, I'd rather--yes--the
Savoy. You look as if you objected. Do you?'
'Not at all. It'll be rather fun. But I'm so glad you can afford it. We
haven't an _account_ there, you know.'
'I propose to make a slight sacrifice for once.... I will engage a table
and telephone to Raggett. Women never understand that to do things well,
once in a way, is sometimes a--a very good thing,' he finished
rather lamely.
'All right. I _am_ getting curious to see Raggett!'
'My dear Edith, he's nothing particular to _see_, but he's a man who
might be--very useful.'
'Oh, shall you take a private room?'
'I don't think so. Why? You can wear what you wore last night.... You
looked quite nice in it, and you can take it from me, once for all'--he
got up, looked in the glass, and said--'that _Raggett's all right_. Now,
tell cook we're dining out. She might have a holiday tonight. A change
may do her good; and I shall hope to find the omelette less leathery
tomorrow.'
Edith did not point out that Bruce, after specially ordering breakfast
punctually at nine, had come down at half-past ten.
'And now I must go.... The dinner was charming last night. It was only
spoilt by that empty-headed fool--what's his name--Reeve, who was
obviously making up to Hyacinth. Anyone can see she only endures his
attentions from politeness, of course. He knows nothing about anything.
I found _that_ out when we were smoking after dinner; and one can't get
a word out of old Cannon.'
Edith was putting Bruce's writing-table in order when she found an open
letter in the blotting-book, glanced at the signature, and saw that it
was from Raggett. So she eagerly read it, hoping to get some further
light on the mysterious man in whose honour Bruce was prepared to offer
so extravagant a festivity.
It was written on a rough sheet of paper, with no address. The
handwriting was small, compressed, and very untidy. It ran.--
'DEAR OTTLEY,
'Y'rs to hand. I shall be glad to dine with you, as I have told you
several times, and I would accept your invitation with pleasure if I
knew when and where the dinner was to be. These two points you have
always avoided mentioning.
'Y'rs truly,
J.R. RAGGETT'
It struck Edith that it was quite extraordinary, after so many
descriptions from Bruce--some vivid, some sketchy, others subtly
suggestive--how little she could imagine Raggett.
Notwithstanding quantities of words, nothing, somehow, had ever come out
to throw the least glimmer of light either on his character,
personality, or walk of life. Not bad, all right, useful, rather
wonderful, but quite ordinary and nothing particular, were some of the
phrases she recalled. She had never been told anything about his age,
nor his appearance, nor how long Bruce had known him. She had only
gathered that he wasn't athletic like Goldthorpe (Bruce's golf
companion), and that he wasn't in the Foreign Office, and didn't belong
to Bruce's club. Where, how, and when could he be useful?
If she seemed bored when Bruce was enthusiastic about him, he was
offended; but if she seemed interested and asked leading questions, he
became touchy and cautious, almost jealous. Sometimes she had begun to
think that Raggett was a Mrs Harris--that there was no such person.
There, evidently, she had been wrong.
At eight o'clock that evening, on arriving at the Savoy, Edith decided
not to take off her cloak (on the ground of chilliness, but really
because it was smarter and more becoming than her dress). Therefore she
waited in the outer room while Bruce, who seemed greatly excited, and
had given her various contradictory tips about how to behave to their
guest, was taking off his coat. Several other people were waiting there.
She saw herself in the glass--a pretty, fair, typically English-looking
woman, with neatly-chiselled features, well-arranged _blond-cendré_
hair, a tall, slight figure, and a very thin neck. She noticed, among
the other people waiting, a shabby-looking man of about thirty-five, who
looked so intensely uncomfortable that she pitied him. He had a vague,
rough, drab beard, colourless hair, which was very thick in front and
very thin at the back, quite indefinite features, an undecided
expression, and the most extraordinary clothes she had ever seen. The
shirt-front was soft, and was in large bulging pleats. He wore an
abnormal-looking big black tie, and the rest of the costume suggested a
conjurer who had arrived at a children's party in the country and had
forgotten his dress-suit, and borrowed various portions of it from
different people staying in the house, who were either taller or shorter
than himself. The waistcoat ended too soon, and the coat began too late;
the collar reminded one of Gladstone; while the buttonhole of orchids
(placed, rather eccentrically, very low down on the coat) completed the
general effect of political broadmindedness, combined with acute
social anxiety.
He looked several times at Edith with a furtive but undisguised
admiration. Then Bruce appeared, held out his hand cordially, and said,
'Ah, Raggett, here you are!'